


All These Things That I've Done

by Isa_Iadel



Series: Blood Bond [1]
Category: Castle, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Sentinels & Guides, Alternate Universe - Sentinels and Guides Are Known, Bonding, Crossover, Feelings, M/M, Phil and Javier are bros, Phil has been waiting for Clint, all the crossovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-02
Updated: 2013-09-20
Packaged: 2017-12-25 10:10:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/951850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Isa_Iadel/pseuds/Isa_Iadel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint Barton is trying to keep his head down in the circus when he bumps into a fed who happens to be a Guide and he can't just ignore him.  He might not think he deserves the title of Sentinel, but his instincts still call to him and he has to protect the Guide.</p><p> </p><p>This is going to be a long series.  With all the crossovers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I've Got Soul

**Author's Note:**

> So far this story is a crossover between the Avengers and Castle. However there are references to characters from several other fandoms.
> 
> By the time the story is done it should include characters from seven different fandoms.
> 
>  
> 
> Do not reproduce

**<http://isa-iadel.tumblr.com/image/60082574546>**

**Blood Bond Series:**

**All These Things That I’ve Done**

**_Part One: I’ve Got Soul_ **

Each day felt the same as the one that came before it.  He woke up, performed like a trained monkey and went to bed.  The time in between he stared at the sky, watching the clouds and dreaming of a different, better life.  For so long he’d been sure that this had been a better life than he would have otherwise had and forced himself to feel something like contented.  He even tried for gratitude but he hated the life and he hated them because it had never been anything related to altruism and he just wanted to get away.  By the time he was twenty he had bragging rights as the best marksman in the entire world.  He was so close to clearing his debt that he could almost taste freedom and on the really good days he sometimes fantasized about meeting a nice Guide and settling down, but that all ended when his brother ran away and he was settled with a debt he would likely never be able to settle.

            For a long time nothing seemed important.  All his foolish little plans had crumbled into nothingness.  At first he was bitter and angry, but then he just felt numb.  And empty.  He scraped together a few bucks and bought a shitty cello and taught himself to play because he couldn’t stand to stare at the sky and fantasize about better days that were never coming.  Sometimes it even eased him a little.

            They spent most of the beginning of the summer in upstate New York and he was invited to join them for some of their business outside of the circus.  It was easy work, they promised, good money and he probably wouldn’t even break a sweat.  He didn’t know the exact details but it didn’t matter.  He’d rather never clear his debt than join whatever shady business deal they were into.  He might not be much, might not have any right to call himself a Sentinel, but he wasn’t a criminal. 

            It was late when they came back and even with his hearing turned down low the ruckus of dragging a prisoner woke him from where he was sleeping in the bed of his dingy old pick up truck.  The moonlight was bright enough that he caught a decent look at the man they were dragging and he nearly cursed out loud at their stupidity.  The man was clearly a fed!  What did they think they were doing? He sat up quickly, but froze in surprise at his own movements.

            “What the hell do you think your doing?  You’re not a hero, Clinton Barton.  You’re a glorified clown.  Mind your own business and go back to bed.”

            The verbal command didn’t help and he lay awake staring at the stars.  Angry words floated out from a nearby tent quickly followed by the muffled groans of someone being hit over and over and over.  They didn’t bore of beating the fed for a while, but eventually they headed to their own tents and campers to sleep and Clint slipped into the tent they’d left to check on the fed.  He almost wanted to ignore it, but he couldn’t.  Someone was in pain and he could help and the need to do so was overwhelming.  This was more than he could ignore.

            When he entered the tent Clint froze for a moment and just stared at the man, instantly and inexplicable captivated.   He felt like he was going to explode with happiness and that was both strange and alarming.  The man was tied to a chair, limp with his head tucked against his chest and it made Clint angrier than he had ever been.  He wore a suit that Clint imagined had once been nice, but now it was ripped and bloodied.  His eyes fluttered open briefly as Clint gently cleaned the blood from his face with a damp towel, but he didn’t really seem aware.  Clint brushed his thumb against an unmarred cheek and the man made a quiet noise that had Clint repeating the action until he settled. 

Clint had known what he was the moment he touched him, but couldn’t make himself keep his hands to himself.  He wanted to hold him, to soothe him so badly.  This was the first Guide he had ever met and he didn’t know what to do.  Once he calmed, Clint checked the back of his neck and head.  His hands came away bloody and he carefully examined a gash that looked far worse than it likely was.  His palpitations of the man’s ribs drew a pained whimper, but they didn’t feel broken.  Clint took a deep breath and forced himself to calm down because he wanted to rampage through the camp and destroy those who had dared to hurt this man.  They had no right to touch a Guide.  Fishing through the pockets of his discarded jacket Clint found a gun, a cell phone with no history or contacts, a badge and a photo ID naming him Phillip Canton Coulson.

            “Coulson, wake up,” Clint shook his shoulder gently.  “Come on, Coulson, open your eyes.”  Clint sighed a little and added a touch of insistence of his tone, “Phillip?  Come on.  You need to wake up.”

            Bleary blue eyes stared up at him, “Its you.  All this time later...the dreams were right.  It wasn’t a symbol.  You’re really in the circus.”

“What’s me?  Phillip, are you okay?”

“…prefer Phil…”

            “Okay, Phil,” Clint replied.  He closed his eyes tightly for a minute.  Just the sound of his voice made everything better.  All of his worries and fears faded away and he just wanted to kneel before Phil for the rest of his life and listen to him talk.   “Do you remember what happened?”

            “It’s a bit fuzzy,” he admitted slowly.  His speech was approaching slurred, and measured like he was drunk but trying hard to pass for sober. “I was meeting a contact but it went sideways.  My arms felt heavy and I couldn’t fight when they came for me.  I thought I should try, but it didn’t seem to be terribly important at the time.”

            “Okay.”  What the hell were the others into?  What possessed them to think kidnapping a fed was a good idea?  They probably hadn’t known he was a Guide, but that didn’t absolve them in Clint’s eyes.  It didn’t mitigate the almost consuming rage he felt at Phil’s injuries.  “I’m going to untie you.  Give me ten minutes to make sure the coast is clear and then head for the woods on the other side of the river.  Follow the path, its about three miles to the nearest town.”

            “Not sure I’ll make it,” he admitted, “Still feel heavy and fuzzy.”

            “You have to.  You can’t stay here,” Clint insisted. 

            “You have nice eyes,” Phil whispered.

            “Uh, thanks,” Clint replied, “But you need to focus, Phil.  You need to be gone when they wake up in the morning and I can’t take you.  You have to go on your own.”  The words actually pained him because the idea of leaving a hurt Guide was repugnant, but Phil would be better off on his own.

            “Come with me, pretty.”

            Clint sighed a little, tilting Phil’s chin up and using his flashlight to check the mans pupil’s.  He was warm and sweaty to the touch and his pulse was racing.   There was no hint of alcohol or anything else Clint was familiar with on his breath, but his mental state was obviously altered. “Damn it, what did they give you?”

            “Don’t know,” Phil learned forward, straining against the bonds like he wanted to whisper a secret, “I don’t know what it was, but I feel too warm.  Why is it so warm?”

            “Do you have a headache?  Any stomach pain?”

            “No,” he replied, “But I feel like there is a cement wall around my mind.”

            “Damn it.”

            “You’re mad?” 

            “Not mad, just freaking out a little,” Clint elaborated, doing his best to stay calm.   He didn’t have much experience with Guides, this was the longest he’d ever spoken to one, and he couldn’t tell how powerful this one was. The last thing he wanted was for his own agitation to upset Phil  “I don’t know what to do except that I want to help you but I can’t figure out how to do that without leaving.”  He gestured to the phone on the table behind him, “Have you got backup in the area?  Someone I can call for you?”

            Phil’s face tightened in anger, “No.  Trusting him is how I got into this situation to begin with.  He’s clearly been compromised.  Take the battery out of the phone.”

            “Where’s your Sentinel?”  And what the hell made him or her leave you alone in a situation were drugged, abducted and beaten, Clint wondered.

            Phil met his gaze evenly, “I’m not bonded.  Are you, Sentinel?”

            “Don’t call me that,” Clint replied.  “I don’t deserve that title.”

            “Why would you say that?”

            “Focus, Phil,” Clint said sharply, “That’s not important.  We need to make a plan to get you out of here.”

            “Why do you have an aversion to leaving this place, pretty?  Do you like it here?”

            Clint tried to ignore the endearment, but he felt his cheeks heating in embarrassment.  It was beyond ridiculous except he sort of liked it.  Phil stared at him unblinkingly “No, but-” he sighed, “I don’t remember much about how to live in the real world.  And I have debt.  I can’t run off until I’ve paid them back in full otherwise they’ll just drag me back.”

            “I’ll show you.”

            “And the debt-”

            “Is a chain to keep you here.  Every time you start to clear it more appears.  It’s a con and they’re never going to let you leave.”

            Clint shook his head, pushing Phil’s words aside because he was so tempted by them it was almost scary, “If we leave now I can probably be back before they notice.  They’ll just figure you escaped during the night.”

            “Or you could come with me.”

            “They’d never let it lie,” Clint shook his head, “And you’d just find me a disappointment.” 

            Getting Phil to the truck took a while because moving pained him and they were trying to keep quiet.  His truck wasn’t exactly close to any of the others but he was still reluctant to start the engine.  He put the car in neutral with Phil in the drivers seat to steer and pushed it to the nearest road.  Shifting Phil over to the passenger seat Clint buckled him in and tried to make him comfortable with his blanket and pillows.  He turned his hearing up a little to monitor his heart rate. 

            “Okay?”

            “Too warm.”

            Clint adjusted the sleeping bag, “Better?”

            “Better,” Phil confirmed.

            It took Clint a few tries and a peek under the hood to get the truck started.  They didn’t talk much as Clint drove and he figured Phil would drift back off to sleep.  Clint pulled into a roadside motel with a payphone and parked the truck beside it.  “I’ve got three quarters you can have,” Clint fished the quarters he had been saving for a chocolate treat from the cup holder and offered them to Phil, “Call your people and tell them to come get you.”

            Phil closed Clint’s hand around the change and held onto his wrist and his skin tingled at the touch, “Come with me.”

            “Call your people to come get you,” Clint insisted.  The warm tingling feeling in his wrist was spreading and he just wanted to sprawl out and pull Phil against his chest.  Maybe they could look at the stars together and if Phil didn’t know Clint would tell him about the constellations.  But that was nothing more than a fantasy.  Phil probably already knew all about them and even if he didn’t why would he want to look at the stars with Clint?  He might be unbonded, but that didn’t mean he was going to throw himself at the nearest Sentinel.

            “Come with me.”

            Clint exhaled loudly, frustrated, temped and exhausted.  “This isn’t up for debate, Phil!  Call your people.”  Go with him.  It was so tempting.  He could go with Phil and they’d go so far away that none of them would ever be able to find him again.  Clint was a Sentinel and Phil was a Guide and maybe...  No.  It was ridiculous. Phil was drugged and when whatever he had been given wore off he could regret it and Clint would be stuck.  Besides what would a man like Phil do with someone like Clint?  His mind supplied all kinds of helpful sexual suggestions, but it was bitter because Phil was probably smart and educated and Clint knew less than nothing about such things. 

            “Come with me, pretty.”

            Clint choked at the name, “You are the most stubborn man I’ve ever met!” He growled.

            “Thank you.”

            “That was not a compliment!”

            “It kind of was.  Say yes,” Phil smiled sweetly.

            “No!”

            “Fine, stay.  But if you don’t go I won’t go either.  We’ll both stay here,” Phil announced.

            “You!  You don’t know me!  You don’t even know my name.  Maybe you think I’m pretty or maybe you feel bad for me but I’m not going to run away with you like a helpless damsel from some stupid fairytale,” Clint insisted.

            Phil’s expression gentled, “We have files on everyone involved in the circus.  We’ve been watching them for a while.  I do know your name.  Clinton Barton, the marksman.  They sometimes call you Hawkeye.”

            “I only let people I don’t want to punch in the face call me Hawkeye.  My mentor gave me that nickname.  He was an decent guy,” Clint admitted quietly, “It wasn’t too bad for me there before he died.”

            “Do you want to punch me in the face?”

            “The last thing you need is another punch to the face,” Clint replied.

            “So you don’t want to?”

            “I may not be much, but I’m not so far removed from what I ought to be that I would hurt a Guide,” Clint admitted.

            Phil offered another sweet smile, “So I can call you Hawkeye.”

            He stared at his hands in his lap and swallowed thickly because it wasn’t a privilege he gave out often but he wanted to hear Phil call him Hawkeye in the worst way.  “Yeah, you can.  You… you know I’m not involved in any of that.  I’m not a criminal.”           

            “But you are surrounded by them.”

            “So, what, am I guilty by association??” Clint demanded bitterly.

            “No, but its all the more reason for you to leave with me.  If I can’t persuade you to come with me, pretty, at least don’t go back to them.  Please.”

            Clint pressed his hands against burning cheeks, “Stop calling me pretty.”

            “No.  I like it,” Phil insisted.  “And it makes you blush which makes you even prettier.”

            “What the hell did those morons give you?” Clint demanded, “Or are you always this friendly?”

            “No,” Phil denied, “You’re just special.”  His eyes fluttered closed, “But you’re also right.  I don’t feel good and I don’t even know what I’m saying.  It’s too hot.”

            Clint turned the truck back on and blasted the air conditioning.  “Phil…”

            “Hmm?” Phil opened his eyes from leaning towards the cool blast of air.

            “Promise me that when you come down from this and decide you don’t want a circus freak hanging around that you won’t just leave me high and dry.”

            Phil was quiet for a long moment before he scooted across the cab and took Clint’s hands.  “That’s not going to happen, but if such a promise will persuade you to come with me then you have it.  I promise, Hawkeye.”

            “Okay.”

            “Okay, you’ll go?”  Clint nodded and Phil beamed. He leaned forward so slowly that Clint could not misunderstand his intentions but he froze as Phil pressed chapped lips to the corner of his mouth.  Clint exhaled sharply and before he realized what he was doing he leaned forward and caught Phil’s mouth in a deep kiss.  His tense of touch spiked and it felt so damn good.  Phil pulled away abruptly.

            “Don’t zone.”

            “I won’t.”

            “You’re close to a zone.  I can feel it.  Your senses are wide open.  You’re hyperaware,” Phil warned.

            “I know.  I can manage it.  I won’t zone.  Please,” Clint leaned forward, “Can I…will you kiss me again?”

            Blue eyes wide, Phil kissed him again, and Clint felt all of his senses approach a spike.  From the feel of Phil’s lips against his, to the taste of his mouth, the sound of heartbeat and the smell of his skin, he wanted to get lost in it forever.  He stopped just before it threatened to fully overwhelm him.  Being this close to a Guide was like nothing he’d ever experienced and he wanted to entangle himself with Phil. The thought was sobering.  He was taking advantage of a Guide who needed his help.

            He brushed a final kiss against his mouth, “This isn’t right.”

            “This is perfect,” Phil disagreed, “The timing is just wrong.”

            Clint shook his head.  He’d feel differently when the drugs wore off.  Clint was little more than an imposter.  He didn’t deserve a Guide, especially not one as special as Phil.  “I have a full tank of gas and fifty dollars in emergency money in the glove compartment.  Will that get us to where you have to go?”

            “I don’t know who else has been compromised so I can’t risk calling in.  I need to go straight to the Director.”

            “Uh, the FBI building is in DC, right?”

            “Yeah, but I’m not FBI.  Head to the city.”

            “DHS?”

            “No,” Phil smiled.

            “NSA?”

            “No.”

            Clint frowned, “ATF? DEA?”

            “No and no.”

            Clint pulled the truck back out onto the road, “Are you CIA?”

            “Nothing so glamorous,” Phil replied.

            Clint put on the radio because he couldn’t think of whatever organization Phil might belong to and was wary of asking.  He kept the radio low enough to distract him but not loud enough to disturb Phil from sleeping.    He drove until the gas light came on and gently nudged Phil awake while he filled the tank.  Phil disappeared into the bathroom briefly before resettling himself in the passenger seat.  The donuts inside the station were cheap and there was a sale so Clint used his seventy-five cents to buy both the chocolate and powered ones for Phil.

            “I didn’t know which you’d prefer.”

            “Thanks,” Phil smiled.  “You look tired.”

            Phil actually looked worse than when they had left the camp.  More bruises had appeared and looking at his face kind of hurt.  Sleeping in the truck probably wasn’t helping because he seemed stiff and was moving like an old man.  “I look better than you.”

            “Undoubtedly.  Want me to drive for a bit?”

            “Nah, I’m good.  You should eat a little something and rest, try to sleep off whatever they gave you.”

            “Okay.  But if you think I’m going to sleep off liking you or being attracted to you, you’re wrong.  I want for you my own and I’m not going to just give that up.”

            Clint wanted to say something, but his tongue felt heavy in his mouth and before he could piece together a coherent reply Phil was sleeping again. Though he would have preferred to just let him sleep uninterrupted for as long as he liked, Clint was eventually forced to wake Phil because he didn’t really know where they were going.  Phil directed him to a sprawling complex just outside the city.

            “Thanks for bringing me back, Hawkeye.”

            He seemed lucid.  He hadn’t called Clint pretty in a few hours, but still looked at him with this little smile that made it hard for Clint to breath properly.  Maybe it wasn’t just the drugs.  Maybe Phil felt a little bit of the instantaneous connection that Clint felt when they met.  Maybe they were compatible.  Clint forced that thought aside because the disappointment of being wrong would be unbearable. 

Phil flashed his ID to get them through the security gate, but as Clint was helping Phil from the truck he suddenly knew that something was wrong.  Men appeared from everywhere and nowhere, angry and armed and Clint lost it when someone tried to pull Phil away from him.  The bow and arrow surprised everyone but no one responded straight away because none of them had ever had a bow and arrow pointed at them and they aren’t sure how they are supposed to react.  It shouldn’t be a threat against their guns but something in the archer’s expression had them wary.

            They stood down and backed away slowly when Phil ordered them to.  The words feral Sentinel were tossed around, but Clint ignored them and focused on making sure none of them dared come any closer to Phil.  Once they were a good distance away Phil turned back to Clint and gently touched his arm.  “Put it down.  Please.  They won’t hurt you.”

            “…not worried about me.”

            “They won’t hurt me,” Phil amended.  “Please put it down.”

            Clint lowered the weapon uneasily but didn’t put it away or unnotch the arrow from his bow.  He kept so close to Phil they were practically touching as they moved through the facility.  A brief stop at security had Phil scowling deeply when the guards tried to pull Clint aside to search him.

“Do not touch him.”

“Sir, he’s wielding a bow and arrow and he might have other weapons.”

“No.”

“Agent Coulson…” one of them attempted reasonably, but the fierce glower Phil turned in his direction had the man backing away.

“Do not touch him,” Phil insisted, a hint of anger creeping into his tone.

Clint edged a little closer to Phil and put a hand on his shoulder.  The other man turned his full attention on him at the touch and it took Clint a moment to remember what he wanted to say because Phil was staring at him so intently.  It was difficult to remember that things were happening around them when Phil looked at him like that.  “I don’t mind.”

“I mind,” Phil replied.  “Lift your arms.”

Clint obeyed his instructions and closed his eyes tightly as Phil ran his hands up his arms, over his shoulders and down his back.  He progressed to biting his bottom lip as Phil’s hands moved over his sides, stomach and chest.  Phil stood after checking his legs and then they were so close together Clint would only need to lean forward a little but press their lips together.  Phil’s chin was ever so slightly raised and it found be so easy to lean forward and-

“Agent Couslon that was hardly a thorough search…”

“He still has his bow and arrow.  He can’t bring that into the facility and-”

“Enough,” Phil snatched the visitor pass from the table and clipped it to Clint’s jacket.  “He’s with me.”

“But sir…”

“Take it up with Fury or Hill,” Phil advised, tugging on Clint’s arm until he walked beside him of his own volition.

“Is that okay?” Clint asked.  He had no intention of giving up his bow and arrow especially when he wasn’t entirely sure that Phil was safe here, but he had no desire to get the Guide in trouble.  “I don’t want to cause you any problems.”

Phil’s expression softened, “You haven’t.  Don’t worry.”

“Where are we going?”

“Medical.  I still don’t feel entirely normal,” Phil admitted.

Neither of them spoke much and Phil ignored most of the questions the doctors asked once they reached medical him in favor of staring at Clint until a scowling man with an eye patch joined them

            “Director Fury,” Phil managed to turn his attention away from Clint with obvious difficulty.

            “Agent Coulson and…friend,” he greeted.  “I sense there is a long story in what out to have been a simple meet.”

            “Yes, sir,” Phil replied.  “This is Clint Barton.”

“Yes, I’ve been receiving panicked calls about him for the past ten minutes.  Nice bow, Mr. Barton.”

“Uh, thank you.  Sir.”

Fury’s mouth twitched in what might have been a smile.  “So you went upstate for a few days and now you’ve come back with a Sentinel.”  His tone was even and though there was nothing in his expression to indicate it Clint couldn’t help but feel that Fury was not particularly pleased.   “I’m very interested in the tale, Agent Coulson, considering you were supposed to keep a low profile and we all agreed not to bring Barton in until after the assignment was over. How exactly did you two meet?”

“Bring me in for what?” Clint asked immediately, surprised and a little panicked.  They had planned to bring him in all along?  Hadn’t Phil said he knew Clint wasn’t involved in the illegal business?  Had it all been a trick?

Phil shook his head, “Not like that.”  He turned his attention back to Fury, “Clint helped me.”

              Fury raised a disbelieving eyebrow, “You needed help?”

            “Badly, sir,” Phil admitted, “I wouldn’t have gotten out without him.  I think I was drugged.”

            “Someone got close enough to you to drug you?” Fury demanded, his surprise evident on his face.  “Who?  How?  Why the hell wasn’t this reported?  I haven’t heard anything from Agent Deacon.”

            “I can’t come up with any possible explanation except that it was Deacon.  I think he’s been compromised, Sir.”

            His surprise was almost instantly replaced by anger, “Stay here.”  He commanded, like there was some danger of Phil jumping up and leaving his bed in medical.  “I’m going to look into this.”

            “Yes, sir.”

            Fury hesitated briefly, “Keep Barton with you, Phil.  I can’t have civilians running around the base without supervision, even if they do belong to you.”

            “Yes, sir.”

            “Marines,” Clint said when Fury was gone.

            “I’m sorry?”

            “I figured you had been in the military when I first saw you but I couldn’t tell what branch.  Were you a marine?”

            “Hoorah,” Phil replied with a small smile. 

            “You should rest.”

            “Can’t risk it.”

            “What do you mean?” Clint demanded, his hand tightening on his bow, “You’re safe here, aren’t you?”

            “I can’t risk you wandering off.  I don’t want to wake up and find that you changed your mind and left,” his expression turned a little desperate, “I know I could be good for you.  I think we could be happy.  I just want a chance.  Please.”

            “What?”

            “I’ve been waiting for you for so long.  Don’t go.  Don’t just leave.  Please,” Phil wrapped a hand around his wrist and Clint had to almost completely turn his sense of touch down to zero because he felt so damn good that he wanted to climb into the bed with Phil and do something stupid like hum to him until he fell asleep. 

            “No, Phil, no,” Clint tried to twist his wrist from Phil’s grasp, “I’m nothing.  I might have the gene, but I don’t deserve the title.  I’m not a guardian.  I’m not a protector.  You deserve a bond with someone who is better than some circus freak.”

            “I don’t want someone else.  I want you.”  His voice lowered and his head bowed, “And you’re rejecting me.”

            “It isn’t about you,” Clint insisted, “I don’t want a Guide,” he said gently, “Its entirely possible that you could be good for me, that you could make me happy but I can’t do that for you.  I don’t know how!”

            Phil’s face twisted with something that resembled understanding, but was probably pity and Clint wrenched his hand away.  “Hawkeye…”

            Clint stared at his hands, “Its just the drugs talking.  You’d never even consider someone like me if you were in the right mind.  Just rest, Phil, please.  I promise I won’t run off.  I may not be much, but I’m not a liar,” he insisted.  “Rest and I’ll be here when you wake up.  I won’t leave until we’ve spoken again.”

            It seemed like Phil would argue, but he just nodded his head sort of sadly and curled up under the blankets.  His breathing evened out after a few minutes and he drifted off into a peaceful sleep. 


	2. But I Am Not a Soldier

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint Barton might not feel prepared for a bond with a Guide like Phil Coulson, but that doesn't stop him from desperately wanting it.

**Blood Bond Series:**

**All These Things That I’ve Done**

**_Part Two: But I Am Not A Solider_ **

            It was probably more than a little pathetic, but Clint didn’t move beyond breathing as he watched Phil sleep.  There was a certain feeling of contentedness in his self appointed task of sentry at the bedside of the Guide.  He doubted that anyone would try to hurt Phil in this facility, but his bow and arrow were at his side just in case.  He’d destroy anyone who dare tried to hurt his Guide.

            Clint froze, stopping even his breathing for a moment.  _His Guide_.  He closed his eyes tightly and mentally screamed at himself.  Phil wasn’t his Guide and he had no right to think of him that way, especially without his permission.  He was just making it worse for himself, but he still couldn’t stop his mind from wandering in that direction.  A bond with a Guide.  Everything else in his life had been so messed up and he’d never really met a Guide before Phil so he’d honestly never truly considered it as a possibility. He convinced himself that he neither wanted nor needed a Guide and therefore there was nothing to long for.  But the most perfect Guide in the world was right in front of him and Clint wanted him so badly his entire body was throbbing with it. 

            Nurses stopped by his bedside intermittently to check on Phil and make notes on the chart hanging off the edge of the bed.  It was the only thing that allowed him to follow the passage of time, because he was otherwise so wrapped up in watching his Guide that everything else faded into the background.  Eventually Director Fury returned with a red haired woman and studied Clint briefly before speaking.

            “This is Agent Romanov.  She’s going to stay with Agent Coulson while you come with me.  We’re going to get you a sandwich and have a little chat and then you can return here and I’ll have them set up a bed beside him so you can get some rest because you look like shit, Mr. Barton.”

            Clint wanted to argue, but the expression on the woman’s face made it clear she’d gut anyone who dared to even look at Phil funny so Clint shrugged and forced himself to follow the man out of medical.  He couldn’t tell if she was a Sentinel or a Guide, but there was something about her that caught his attention and put him at ease.  It was a short walk to the cafeteria and Director Fury bought him three sandwiches, a salad, an assortment of snacks and desserts and four bottles of water.  Clint had never before had that much food in front of him in his entire life and wasn’t entire sure what to do with it.  He’d only been away from the Circus for a few hours and already he was incurring another debt. 

            “I’ll pay you back.”

            “No, you won’t,” Fury said shortly.  He continued without waiting for a response, “I can’t give you the details, but its been sorted.  I don’t want you to worry about your Guide being safe here.  Agent Coulson is one of my most valuable Agent’s and more importantly he’s my friend.  The Fury’s and the Delaware’s have been close for a long time.  He’s rarely out in the field and-”

            Clint held up his hand, his face red with shame at the misunderstanding, “He’s not my Guide.”

            Fury cocked an unimpressed eyebrow at the statement, “Excuse me?”

            “Agent Coulson,” Clint supposed it was probably better to refer to him more formally at this point, “is not my Guide.  It isn’t like that.”

            “It certainly looked like that.  Is this because of his work here?  You don’t think a Guide should be able to-”

            “No,” Clint cut him off before he could finished.  “This seems like a good place and even if he was my Guide I wouldn’t have any right to say what he should and shouldn’t be able to do.” Clint admitted.

            “Is this because he’s male?”           

            “Why would that matter?” Clint asked, frowning a little.

            “Well, what is the problem then?  Does he intimidate you?”

“Intimidate me?” Clint questioned.  “In what way?”

“Phil Coulson is an extremely powerful Guide.  It might not have been so obvious with the drugs, but there are few who are his equal.”

“Even more reason why he’d be utterly wasted on me.”

“Ah,” Fury said, a hint of amusement entering his expression.  “He makes you feel insecure.”

“No,” Clint denied.

Fury continued to offer him a smug smile, “Come now, Mr. Barton.  You’re a powerful Sentinel.  It’s only natural for you to want some nice little Guide to take care of you.  Guides like Coulson aren’t exactly easy to control.  They have their own opinions and don’t always obey their Sentinels -”

“I’m not a powerful Sentinel and I’d never want a Guide like that.”  He shook his head, unable to keep the disgust off his fact.  “Like some kind of servant…”  He shook his head again.  “I thought Phil was your friend.  How can you talk about him like that?”

Except the smugness was finally gone from his expression and his smile seemed a little more genuine, there was a bit of concern in his gaze.  “Good.  I wouldn’t have particularly enjoyed injuring you, Mr. Barton, but we don’t stand for that kind of bullshit here.  And like I said before, I’ve known Phil for a long time.  But your refusal to admit that he is your Guide concerned me.”

“So this was a test?”

Fury shrugged.

“Did I pass?” Clint asked.

“That depends on why exactly you’re insisting on denying that he is your Guide.”  His expression turned mildly disapproving, “And eat your sandwich.”

 “I don’t care that he’s powerful,” Clint reiterated.

“He’s more than powerful,” Fury corrected, “He’s empathic and occasionally has prophetic dreams.”

            Clint jerked back in his chair, “He’s empathic?”

            “The Doctor’s tell me the drugs messed his empathy up pretty badly, but it will sort itself out once its gone from his system.”  Fury’s expression hardened a little, “So, what then?  You just don’t think he’s good enough for you?”

            “That’s not it at all.  I spent most of my life trying to work off a debt.  I was almost there when my brother ran away and I was saddled with his debt.  Instead of working it off, I then ran away at the soonest opportunity.  I’m a coward and a cheat.  I left with no intention of returning to honor my debt the minute I had a way out.  I’m not a hero like other Sentinel’s and I have nothing to offer a Guide like Phil.  I’d be nothing more than an embarrassment to him.”

            “He doesn’t seem to share that opinion,” Fury rebuked mildly.

            Clint glared at his remaining sandwich, faintly surprised by the amount of food he’d managed to eat during their conversation, “He’s a good man.  He’s kind, too kind.  I’m nothing.”

            “You’re the greatest marksman in the entire world.  Its not just some title they made up to sell tickets, Mr. Barton.  I’ve seen you in action and it’s not nothing.  I spend half of my time recruiting the best of the best to work here and you’ve been at the top of my list for a long time.  It took a while to make sure you weren’t involved in any of the illegal activities and then it seemed best to just wait until our op was done but even if you hadn’t helped Agent Coulson we would have tried to recruit you.  You do have something to offer, Mr. Barton, and we want you here.”

            Clint refused to meet Fury’s unblinking stare and continued to glower at his remaining food, “So I can shoot.”  He looked up, “I want to be more than just a man who can wield a weapon.  A Guide deserves more than that.  But I don’t have anything else.  I don’t know anything else.”

            “And you can’t learn?” Fury leaned forward on his elbows, “You can’t become that here?  With him?”  Fury sighed a little and leaned back, “I shouldn’t be haranguing you right now.  You look like your about to pass out, Barton.  I’ll take you back to Phil, but this conversation isn’t over.”

            They’d put a bed beside Phil’s for him and Clint was vaguely aware of Fury saying something to Agent Romanov. but he was so exhausted that he just crawled into the bed and fell asleep listening to Phil’s heartbeat.  Maybe when he woke up this would all turn out of be a strange dream and he wouldn’t have to try and figure out what to do next.

            Clint woke slowly, surprisingly comfortable and warm, aware that he’d slept for a pretty significant time and that everything that had happened hadn’t been a dream.    Phil was real.  The first thing he heard upon waking was Phil’s heartbeat and he pressed his face against the pillow and smiled. Phil was awake and Agent Romanov was back or perhaps she’d never left and they were whispering about a crossword puzzle.  He listened to the sound of their voices for a while, content and comfortable, before rolling over and facing them.  Neither of them looked startled and he wasn’t entirely surprised that they’d both known he was awake.  He was a little surprised when they both smiled at him, Phil warm and hopeful and Agent Romanov polite and a tad concerned.

            “You slept a long time.  Are you well, Mr. Barton?”

            “I just needed to rest.  I think I stayed hyperaware for too long,” Clint admitted.

            She tilted her head, “You were hyperaware the entire time?  From when you met Coulson until you got here?”

            “Guess I couldn’t calm down,” Clint shrugged.

            “Most Sentinel’s can only handle that for a few minutes and you managed it for hours,” her tone hinted at approval, “Impressive.”

            Clint shook his head, “It was nothing.  I’m just stubborn, I guess.”  His eyes moved past her to land on Phil, “How are you feeling?”

            “Better,” he replied, “Like myself again.  Thank you.  Natasha, do you mind…?”

            She smiled and shook her head, “I’ll just be outside.”

            “Did you speak with Director Fury?” Phil asked quietly.

            “You have a good friend in him,” Clint replied.  “He seems like an honorable man, a good leader.”

            Phil smiled a little.

            “He attempted to persuade me to remain here and be a part of this organization…whoever you people are.”

            Phil’s shoulders slumped ever so slightly, but he met Clint’s gaze and his expression remained unchanged, “But you declined.”

            “I tried to,” Clint admitted, “He wouldn’t take no for an answer and some of what he said…  I don’t know.  I’m not sure what I should do.  All of my reasons for wanting to stay here are selfish.  It isn’t fair to you and-”

            Clint trailed off when Phil swung his legs over the edge of the bed and moved to occupy the chair beside Clint’s bed.  “It wasn’t the drugs, Clint,” Phil said gently.  “Don’t you know me?  Don’t you feel it?”

            “It doesn’t have to mean anything.  I can ignore it.”

            His jaw tightened briefly, but his tone remained even, “Why do you want to?”

            “There are other Sentinels, better ones and you’ll find one far more deserving and-”

            Phil took his hand, “Do you…Clint-” he hesitated, “You’ve never met another Guide, have you?”

            “No.”

            “But you’ve met other Sentinels.”

            “No,” Clint corrected, “None.  They don’t exactly hang around the circus.”

            “But surely you’ve read Burton’s-”

            “I can’t read,” Clint blurted, “Not really.  I can make out some of the small words but it wasn’t necessary for marksmanship so I haven’t put any effort into it since I was little.  Everything I know about being a Sentinel comes from shit I saw in movies.”

            “I can feel your shame,” Phil replied gently, “And there is no reason for it.  Do you think I care if you can’t read?  You think something like that would make me not want you?  Make me ashamed of you?”  Phil interlaced their fingers, smiling a little when the contact relaxed Clint.  “I haven’t waited this long for any Sentinel, I’ve been waiting for my Sentinel.  You are my Sentinel.  It’s you or no one.”

            Clint knew that Phil’s hand on his was keeping him calm, but he didn’t want to give that up so he didn’t move away from the older man’s touch.  He exhaled slowly as Phil’s thumb rubbed gentle circles along the inside of his wrist.  “I don’t- I don’t understand,” he admitted.  “I don’t know what that means.  Can’t you just forget about me?”

            Phil sighed a little and shook his head.  “You said you’ve never met another Sentinel.”

            Clint nodded.

            “Want to?”

            It was difficult for Clint to stand there and watch as Phil left the room.  The Guide had brought him to a police station in the city and left him with a friend who was a Sentinel.  Clint listened to Phil’s heartbeat until he was gone from the building before turning his attention to the other Sentinel.  There was an instantaneous kind of kinship and Clint couldn’t help but relax.

            “What’s up, bro?”

            Clint managed a smile, “It’s nice to meet you, Detective Esposito.”

            He waved his hand, “Javier is fine.  Coulson wasn’t really forthcoming on the details,” he grinned a little, “No surprise there.  What can I do for you?”

            “I’ve never met another Sentinel before,” Clint admitted quietly, but without shame.  There was no need for shame.  This man wasn’t an enemy.  He wasn’t a threat.  He was family.  “Phil thought you might be able to answer some questions.  I wasn’t brought up around others like us so I don’t know much.  I don’t really know anything, I guess.”

            Javier’s eyes widened almost comically, “I just assumed he brought you to me because I’m not as gruff as the Alpha.  I mean I figured you were just a friend but... are you his Sentinel?”

            “He seems to think so.”

            “But you don’t?”

            “He’s the only Guide I’ve ever met,” Clint admitted, “How am I supposed to tell?  I would stay with him forever, but I don’t know how to do this.  I don’t know how to be a Sentinel.  What if I’m wrong and he finds someone else and leaves?  Most everything I know about this comes from trashy romance movies and its shit and I don’t know what to do.”

            He thought Javier might laugh or that his face might twist with pity, but he just smiled, “I got your back, bro.  We’re gonna go find some Guides.”   Javier’s eyes flicked to a man across the room wearing a collared shirt and a sweater vest.  The man smiled in Javier’s direction and Clint watched as Javier completely relaxed.

            “Is that your partner?”

            “Yeah, but not in the way you mean,” Javier replied.

            The man started towards them, but veered off into another room after he got a good look at Clint.  His friendly expression had been replaced by wariness and Clint could smell his fear despite the distance between them.  Clint frowned and tilted his head in Javier’s direction.  The other Sentinel sighed.  “Don’t take it personally, bro.  He’s wary of strange Sentinels.”

            “So he’s your partner and a Guide, but you aren’t bonded?”

            “Straight to the heart of everything that is messed up in my life,” Javier commented, “I’ll tell you about it later.  Let’s go.”

            Javier’s idea of finding Guides turned out to be wandering from bar to bar and chatting with people.  He met a number of Sentinel’s and Guides, some bonded and some not, but none of the Guides affected him the way Phil did.  Eventually he noticed that none of the Sentinel’s felt quite like Javier did either.

            “I liked you the moment I met you,” Clint admitted as they walked down the sidewalk, “I’m usually far more reserved.”

            Javier didn’t seem surprised, “Yeah, I felt it too.  It’s probably the blood bond.”

            “Blood bond?”

            “I have a blood bond with Coulson.”

            “What does that mean?”

            “We swore an oath to protect each other,” he grinned at Clint’s discomfort, “Not like that.  It’s nothing like a bond between a Guide and Sentinel.  We just swore an oath and shared blood.  We didn’t have an orgy or anything.  There were a bunch of us.  It was when we were in Afghanistan.”

            “You were a Marine too?”

            Javier grinned, “Hoorah.”

            Clint couldn’t help return the grin.  They walked into a dingy bar, half of the occupations turning to wave or call out greetings as they entered.  Javier nudged Clint and pointed at the man occupying the corner of the bar nursing a beer.  “City’s Alpha.  Craziest mother fucker I’ve ever met.”

            The man turned an unimpressed stare in their direction, “I heard that, Espo.”

            “Just making sure you haven’t gone deaf yet.”

            He snorted, but his glare was without heat and he waved for them to join him at the bar.  “New recruit?” His eyes lingered on the length of Clint’s hair and he raised an eyebrow.

            “Friend of a friend,” Javier replied.  “Clint Barton, John McClane.”

            “Hello.”

            “Alpha,” Clint replied politely because while he might not know much he did about Alpha’s. 

            McClane smiled a little, “Will you be staying in New York long?”

            “It’s possible,” Clint admitted, “Is that…okay?”

            McClane didn’t laugh, but he did seem terribly amused by the question, “Sure, kid.  Keep yourself on the right side of the law and you’re welcome to stay as long as you like.  No kidnapping people or blowing up shit and we’ll get along just fine.”  He glanced at his watch briefly, “I need to get back to the station.  Later, Espo.  Barton.”

            They lingered in the bar long enough to finish their beers after McClane left.  Clint didn’t say much and Javier seemed to content to just sit with him and drink while he thought over everything.  He’d met other Guides.  He’d touched them and there had been nothing.  It wasn’t like Phil.

            “You said there were no…” Clint reddened a little with a discomfort that Javier found amusing, “No orgies involved in the blood bond.”

            Javier snorted, “Yeah, I said that.”

            “Can I ask…There is sex involved in creating a bond with a Guide?”

            The laughter slipped from Javier’s face and his expression turned contemplative as he hesitated briefly, “Yes, generally.”

            “Does it just have to be a sexual act or does it have to be…”

            “It usually ends up being intercourse, but it’s not an actual requirement.” Javier explained carefully, “Creating a bond is incredibly passionate and intimate experience.  You’ll focus all of your senses on your Guide and nothing else will exist for you.  Your Guide will link your minds and you’ll be lost in each other.  Beyond that it isn’t something that people really discuss, but you’ll experience a single coalescing moment as one before it ends.”

            “That sounds terrifying,” Clint admitted, “But I still really, really want it.  Phil is special,” Clint sighed, “He’s a good man and a good Guide.  Is it selfish that I want him for myself?”

            “He’s your Guide, bro,” Javier said, “You’re supposed to want him for yourself.  You have all these feelings like you want to do whatever you can to make him happy, right?  Like he’s the center of everything?”

            Clint nodded.

            “That’s always how we feel when we find our Guide.  Its just how we work.”

            “Oh.”

            “You know, he feels the exact same way for you,” Javier explained, “It isn’t one sided.  He feels the connection as intensely as you do.”

            “Are you speaking from personal experience?”

            Javier’s expression clouded a little, “Yes.”

“But you aren’t bonded.”

“Remember that Guide you saw at the station?  He’s my Guide, but he’s gone offline.”

“He was online, but now he’s offline?  I didn’t know that was possible.”

“Neither did I.”  Javier straightened, “He isn’t really sure exactly how he did it.”

“Can he reactivate?” Clint asked.

“I don’t know,” Javier admitted, “No one really knows why we activate when we do.  There is theory that it has to do with high stress and strong emotions but I came online when I was fifteen after I woke up from a weird dream about finding a koala and keeping it as my pet.  When did you come online?”

            “I was just watching the clouds.  I was twelve and I’d always known that I had the gene and for a week or so colors seemed brighter, noises louder and tastes sharper.  It was sort of like a pot of water slowly heating to a simmer.”

            “It isn’t always like that,” Javier explained, “I have a friend, Coulson knows him too actually, and he came online when his helicopter was shot down.  He went feral in the middle of the fight after the crash and kicked the shit out of the guys firing on them.  Saved his entire team and kept them alive in the jungle for months until they were found.”

            Clint was quiet for a while and they walked for a while without any real destination.  “Your friend sounds like a hero.  Can I ask how you know Phil?  I know that it was in Afghanistan and you are blood bound but…”

            “Sure, bro.  I’ll tell you while we eat, okay?”  Javier smiled and steered Clint into a hole in the wall restaurant and ordering for the pair of them in Spanish at the counter.  They took a corner booth when their order was ready and Javier tapped his fingers on the table for a few minutes before beginning.  “I met him while he was still in the Marines. I didn’t really know Coulson before then but I was into that Sentinel machismo bullshit and I didn’t think he could carry his weight as a Marine because he was a Guide.  I thought they were all soft and delicate, that they needed to be protected and sheltered,” Javier quieted for a minute as he drank his soda, “We were drafted for a special assignment and paired with another Guide and two other Sentinels.  I can’t really go into the details, but we became blood brothers.”

            “Where are the others?”

            “The old man was just drafted for that special assignment and went back to whatever top secret shit he does for the Air Force in that mountain when it ended.  I’m pretty sure being in Afghanistan was like a vacation for him.”

            “Old man?”

            Javier chuckled, “He’s not actually old, but that’s how we refer to him.  Yo, it’s literally considered an act of treason if I refer to him by name.  He’s into some deeply crazy classified shit.  Officially, he wasn’t even there.  There is no paperwork, no trails, nothing.  The other Sentinel, Jim, went back to California and got a job as a cop.  The other Guide, John, stayed in Afghanistan for a while longer before he was injured and sent home.  Coulson went to SHIELD and I have absolutely no idea what he gets up to but he’s in the city sometimes so I see him fairly regularly.”  Javier fished his beeping cell phone out of his pocket, “speak of the devil.”  He flipped open the phone and handed it to Clint.

            “Hello?”

            “Hello.”

            The mere sound of Phil’s voice eased an ache that Clint didn’t entirely realize he felt and he couldn’t help but smile.  Javier rolled his eyes a little at Clint’s grin and turned the majority of his attention back to his food.  “Is everything okay?”

            “Yes.  I just wanted to check in on you and Espo.  How are you?”

            “It’s been interesting,” Clint said slowly, “Thank you for introducing me to him.  We’re just having dinner.  Have you eaten?  Do you want to join us?  Or I could bring something back for you?”

            “Yes, I ate.  I’m fine, thank you,” Phil replied, a hint of amusement in his tone. 

            “Okay,” Clint sighed a little and tried to think of something to say.  Phil was in the SHIELD compound.  He was safe, he was fine, but he wasn’t within arms reach and it was a problem.  He desperately wanted to kiss him again, or at least hold him.  Just interlacing their fingers and sitting beside each other would be enough.   There was still so much he didn’t know, but it seemed less important. Any contact from Phil would before more than enough, no matter how small or how brief it would ease the throbbing Clint felt spreading out from his chest.   He needed his Guide.  He needed to see Phil and acknowledge him as his Guide and he didn’t really know much about what a bond to a Guide entailed but that didn’t stop him from wanting it so desperately he could barely function.  “I-”

            “Clint?”

            Javier suddenly looked up from his food and choked, “Bro, calm down.”

            Clint pressed a hand against his chest, frowning in confusion.  He braced his other arm on the table and hunched his back, but nothing alleviated the sensation.  “What is that?  Why does my chest feel like its about to explode?”

            “Clint, I need you to tell me what’s going on.  Now.”  There was a hint of steeliness to Phil’s tone and Clint wanted to response, he had to respond, but the pressure in his chest was distracting and he didn’t know what to say.

            “I don’t- I’m not sure, Guide.”

            “Clint,” Phil said softly, his voice barely audible through the phone.

            “I need you.  Where are you?”  Clint dropped his head against the table and did his best to curl his body at the cell phone, around the source of Phil’s voice.  He wouldn’t exactly describe the sensation as painful, but it was still terrible and there was nothing that would possibly sooth it except his Guide.

            “Deep breaths, Clint,” Javier said gently, reaching out and taking the phone from his unresisting grip.  “What the hell did you say to him?”

            “Nothing, why?  What’s wrong?  Is he hurt?”

            “Oh, he’s not hurt.  He’s not hurt at all,” Javier assured Phil, “Whatever reservations he had seem to be gone.  He’s priming himself to bond.  You need to be here like now.”

            Clint rested his hands against the cool wood of the table and closed his eyes tightly.  He turned his hearing down low because he didn’t want to hear Phil’s voice because the sound of it coupled with the lack of physical proximity was making him feel violent. 

            “I’m on my way.  Keep him calm.”

            “Uh, yeah,” Javier snorted, “I’ll try.”  Javier wasn’t entirely surprised that Phil didn’t bother to ask where they were.  Clint seemed utterly wrapped up in staring at his hands pressing against the tabletop so Javier just kept an eye on his pulse without interrupting him.  Clint was still until Phil entered the restaurant and though he didn’t get up, he did turn to face Phil and pin all of his senses on the man as he approached.  Phil opened his mouth to speak, but Clint beat him too it.

            “Will you forgive me?” Clint breathed out when Phil reached them, the words escaping his mouth in an anxious mess.

            Slight confusion twisted Phil’s normally impassive expression, “Whatever for?”

            “I hurt you.  I pushed you away because I was scared and I hurt you because it was easier to be a coward and run away then deal how terrified I was of what I felt for you.  I’m still not entirely sure I deserve you and that I can live up to what you need, but I want you and if you still want me in return I will be yours forever.  I’ll learn to be what you need.”

            Phil’s lips twitched towards a smile, “You accept this?”

            “I want it,” Clint corrected.

            “And in the future you’ll trust me to know my own mind?”  Phil sighed a little, “At least when I haven’t been drugged.”

            “It was never that,” Clint shook his head slowly, his unblinking gaze pinned on Phil’s face, “It was just fear.”

            “You don’t need to be afraid.”

“I know that now,” Clint replied, leaning forward until they were nearly touching.  “And I’m not.”

“You were worried because you felt unsure, but I don’t have all the answers either,” Phil said gently, “We’ll figure it out together.”

Clint nodded.

“Good.”  Phil offered his hand, “Come with me.”

            Clint caught his hand and held onto it only long enough to press a kiss to his fingertips.  Phil exhaled shakily, but otherwise gave no reaction.  From the amount of energy pouring off them Javier had no idea how they had managed not to just jump each other the very moment they met.

            “Yo, this is moving and all and I’m really glad you’ve managed to put your angst behind you, but unless you want an audience you’d better head somewhere more private.  Like now,” Javier suggested. 

            Clint tore his gaze away from Phil briefly, “Thank you, Javier.  I mean it.”

            Javier grinned, “Get out of here.  I’ll see you two later.  Much later, I imagine.”

            Clint spent most of the drive staring at Phil, so he was a little startled when he parked his car in front of a building that was not SHIELD.  Clint took the hand Phil offered and they walked into the building and took the elevator to the fifth floor.  Phil unlocked the door to his apartment and gently nudged Clint inside.  It wasn’t particularly large and it was rather on the Spartan side, but there was something about it that put Clint at ease.

            “This is my place,” Phil said, dropping his keys in a bowl on the table beside the door and slipping his shoes off.  Clint copied him, dropping his ratty sneakers beside Phil’s far more shiny ones.  Only hours ago the sight would have bothered him, but suddenly it seemed irrelevant.

            “This is nice,” he turned and watched Phil, smiling a little at how relaxed the man seemed in his own space.

            “You like it?”

            Clint nodded.

            “Do you like it enough that it could be our place?”

            The sort of hopefulness in Phil’s expression made Clint’s chest feel tight.  A home.  It had been a long time since he’d had more than just his truck as a place to sleep.  The circus has never been a home; it had never been a comfortable, safe place.  But anyplace he shared with his Guide would be nothing like that.  The prospect of a home, a home with Phil was more than he’d had to look forward to in a long time.  “You would share your home with me?”

            Phil closed most of the distance between them, “I would share everything with you.”

            Clint slid his hands around Phil’s shoulders, “Bond with me?”

            “Now?”

            “Yes.”

            “Yes,” Phil repeated breathlessly as he sank his hands into Clint’s hair and moved to give him a soft kiss, but it immediately spiraled out of control.  Clint’s breath hitched at the touch and he sighed into Phil’s mouth.  His sense of touch flared as Phil’s hands moved down his neck and to his shoulders, letting go of him just long enough to pull Clint’s shirt off.  Clint rang his thumb along Phil’s bottom lip.

            “How are your ribs?”

            “Well enough,” Phil replied and voice his voice was calm his face was flushed and his eyes were glued to Clint’s mouth.

            “Sore anywhere?”

            “It’s not bad.” 

            “Are you sure?” Clint moved his thumb across Phil’s cheek and just as he had when he was tied to the chair Phil leaned into the touch.  “I can wait.”

            “Can you?”

            “Yes,” Clint caught his face gently, “I can and I will.  Your welfare is far more important than-”

            Phil turned his head and pressed a kiss to Clint’s wrist, “It isn’t necessary.  We can do this now.”  He pressed himself against his Sentinel, “I want to do this now.”

            Clint still hesitated.

            Phil titled his head in surprise, “Are you nervous?”

            Clint exhaled slowly, but met his Guide’s face when he nodded, “Yes.”

            “Why?”

            “You’re special.  This is special,” Clint replied.  “I don’t want to mess it up.”

            “You won’t.  We’ve had a connection since the first time you touched me.  It’ll morph into a full bond with very little effort from us.”

            “Okay.  And if I zone?” Clint asked.

            “Don’t fight it.  Trust me to take care of you.”

            “I do,” Clint met his gaze evenly as he spoke. The words seemed to hover in the tiny space between them briefly.  Phil exhaled slowly; well aware the words cost Clint far more than the average person, and closed his eyes for a moment. 

“You know I think my nickname for you is rather apt.”

            Clint tilted his head.

            “Pretty.  You truly are ridiculously pretty.”

            Clint grinned, “Shut up and kiss me, Guide.”

            Phil kissed him languidly.  Clint accepted it only for a moment before he let out a soft noise of slight impatience.  Phil lifted him effortlessly and Clint’s legs automatically wrapped around his waist when Phil pressed him against the nearest wall.  The demonstration of casual strength from his Guide turned Clint’s kisses heated and biting.  Clint didn’t fight the zone he felt approaching as Phil pressed sucking kisses to his neck and shoulders because it felt so damned good.

            “Hawkeye.”

            Clint blinked, refocusing his gaze on his Guide as Phil pulled him towards the bedroom.   His Guide removed the rest of both of their clothes before pushing him backwards on the bed and fusing their mouths together.  The sex was fast, frantic and over rather quickly.  There had been a moment just before it ended when his vision had gone white and there was no actual distinction between his body and Phil’s.  Their minds had bleed into each other and swirled together and when they eased back into separateness there was a connection between them that was almost tangible.

            Phil pressed a kiss against his temple before snuggling down into the blankets slowly drifting to sleep.  They didn’t speak because there was no need to say anything.  Clint watched him sleep, scooting close enough to Phil that he could enjoy the warmth from the Guide’s body.  His Guide.  Clint’s fingertips brushed Phil’s shoulder and he shifted but didn’t wake.  Eventually Clint slept as well, but when he woke again his Guide was still asleep.  Clint was considering nosing through the kitchen to see if their was anything he could use to put together breakfast for his Guide when his cell phone beeped.  Phil rolled over Clint, pausing to press a kiss against his neck before retrieving his phone from the end table beside the bed.  Clint wrapped his arms and Phil and just enjoyed the contact as he fiddled with his cell phone.

            “Do they need you?”

            “No.  I can handle it from here.  I’m sorry it woke you.”

            “I wasn’t asleep.”

            Phil looked away from his phone, “Something wrong?”

            Clint smiled, “No.  Absolutely nothing is wrong.”

            Phil tossed the phone back onto the table and wrapped himself around Clint.  If it was possible to spend everyday like this Clint would be happy to never move again.  He ran his hands down Phil’s back.

            “I may never move from this bed if you keep doing that.”

            “I could live with that if I had to.”  His fingers moved to tilt Phil’s chin enough to press a kiss to his mouth.  “Guide.”

            “Sentinel,” Phil whispered against his mouth, “Are you happy?”

            “Stupidly,” Clint admitted.  “And so are you.  I can feel it.  I have this awareness of you, just under my skin, and this wretched emptiness that I’ve always felt is gone.”

            Phil smiled slightly, wider than the mild one he offered while they were at SHIELD and Clint felt his heart skip a beat.  “I knew we’d find ourselves here.  I knew we’d work it out.”

            “You knew it?  Did you dream it?”

            “How did you…?”

            “Something Fury said,” Clint admitted, “He said you were an empath and you dream.”

            “I am an empath, though I manage it very tightly because it can be overwhelming.”

            “You feel other peoples emotions?”

            “Sometimes.  But I can also project my emotions on to them.”

            “And your dreams?” Clint asked.  “Are they prophetic?”

            “What they are is weird,” Phil replied.  “And rarely straight forward.  But yes, I did dream of you, of us.  I dreamt I’d meet my Sentinel at the circus.  When I was a kid I made my parents take me to every circus within a hundred miles of our house.  Then I figured it was symbolic and I stopped going.  When this case ended up involving the circus I was amused because I thought I might meet my Sentinel except I wasn’t really serious, but there you were.”

            “Oh.  Can I ask you something else?”

            “Of course,” Phil replied.

            “Who are the Delaware’s?”

            Phil’s head tilted his a little, “Where did you hear about them?”

            “Fury.  He said the Delaware’s and the Fury’s had been friends for a long time,” Clint explained.  “Is Coulson not your real name?”

            “My mother was a Delaware,” Phil replied softly.  “My parents died when I was a kid and I was bounced around to a lot of different family members until my mother’s brother Canton came for me.  His partner is a Fury.  They raised me.  Nick is his nephew, so we’ve known each other a long time.”

            “Oh.  I’m sorry about your parents.”

“I was very lucky that they were able to take me in,” Phil admitted.  “I haven’t told them about you yet, but I’d really like you all to meet each other.  They’re all the family I have.”

The thought of meeting the Delaware-Fury household was a little intimidating, but he nodded anyway.  “I look forward to it,” because even though the idea made him a little nervous Phil was his family he wanted to know the people who had raised him.  Clint leaned up and kissed him briefly.  “When do you have to go back to work?”

            “Not for a while,” Phil promised.

            Not for a while turned out to be a week before they went back to SHIELD.  They hadn’t exactly discussed it, but Clint knew that SHIELD was important to his Guide.  They bumped into Fury after Phil gave him the very abridged tour of the non-restricted areas.

            “Director.”

            Fury smirked at them, “Agent Coulson.  Mr. Barton.  There is an unfortunately large stack of paperwork on your desk, Coulson.”

            “I saw, sir.”

            Fury shrugged, “I diverted some of it to Sitwell and Hill, but you’ll have to deal with the rest yourself.  Assuming you aren’t here to hand in your notice and run off into the sunset with your Sentinel?”

            Phil glanced briefly at Clint before shaking his head, “No plans to ride off into the sunset, sir.”

            “Director Fury, is there still a place for me here?”

            “Yes, Mr. Barton,” Fury replied.

            “Then I’d like to accept your offer.”

            Fury’s expression seemed to soften and he smiled at them, “I’m very happy for both of you.”

            “Thank you, sir,” Phil replied.

            Fury nodded, “Coulson, take care of orientating Barton.  Assign yourself as his handler, get him up to speed on everything under clearance level six and get him a meeting with the head of R&D today.”

            “Yes, sir.”

            “Good.  Welcome to SHIELD, Agent Barton.”

            “Thank you, sir,” Clint replied.

            Phil touched his hand once Director Fury was gone.  “Thank you.”

            Clint smiled and briefly tangled their fingers together.  Orientation turned out to be stacks and stacks of paperwork and files and Clint looked at his Guide in despair.  Phil closed the door to his office and joined Clint at the table in the corner.

            “I’ll help you.”

            “All the help in the world isn’t going to make up for the fact that children can read better than me,” Clint replied quietly. 

            “You’ll learn.  And until you’re comfortable I’ll help you.”

            It took him most of the morning, but he managed to brief Clint on the highlights of SHIELD and get him up to speed on the most crucial information.  Clint said nothing, simply listening as Phil spoke, but when they came to the file on Hydra and he saw the photographs he seemed a little uneasy.  He lifted the one of the Red Skull and studied him thoughtfully.

            “What were they trying to do that this happened to him?”

            “They wanted to create a better man, a better Sentinel.”

            “The Red Skull was a Sentinel?” Clint frowned deeply, placing the photograph back on the table and pushing it away.  “But he can’t have been.  I remember learning about him as a kid in school and he did so many terrible things.”

            “But he never thought what he was doing was terrible.  The point of the experiment was to make a better Sentinel and therefore make a better protector.  The experiment damaged him in ways that none of the scientists working on the project had anticipated.  Even Hydra feared him towards the end,” Phil explained.

            “How long has Hydra existed?”

            “They began at the start of Second World War,” Phil explained.  “I’ll brief you more about the incidents with Hydra and Captain America later.  We dealt them a serious blow and it took them decades to recover, but they are once again a threat.”

            “What do they want?” Clint asked, shifting the photos around curiously.

            “We don’t have a lot of intel about that,” Phil admitted.  “We know that they’ve shown interest in the work of certain geneticists and they’ve been trying to catch up with Bruce Banner ever since his experiment went…awry.”

            “Bruce Banner?”

            “That can be better explained by viewing the footage of the incident,” Phil lifted one of the photograph’s, “That’s Armin Zola, the head of research for Hydra during WWII, with his children.  They’re adults now and they have all followed their father’s footsteps.” 

            “All of them?” Clint asked, lifting a photograph of a somber looking young woman.

            “That one vanished,” Phil amended, “She was a Guide and was assigned a Sentinel as part of their genetic experiments. No one is quite sure what happened to her.  I can’t recall her name…”

            Clint flipped the photograph over and studied the typing on the back briefly before returning to staring unblinkingly at the image.  “Elsa Zola.  Her name is Elsa Zola.”

            Phil leaned forward and put his hand on Clint’s leg, “Are you alright?”

            Clint put the photograph back in the file and flipped it closed, “Yeah.  I’m fine.”

            “Are you sure?”  Phil caught one of Clint’s hands.  “You’re a bit agitated.”

            “Oh, yeah,” Clint gave an obviously halfhearted laugh.  “It’s a lot to take it.  I’m just overwhelmed.”

“We’ll stop here for now then.”  He kept their hands intertwined until the anxiety coming off Clint lessened and some of the tension eased from his shoulders.  Phil glanced at his watch.  “It’s later than I thought.  I’ll walk you to your meeting.”

Phil walked him down to Research and Development and promised to come get him at lunch.  The head of R&D stared at Clint skeptically through his thick glasses from behind his desk where the wall behind him was decorated with honors and degrees.  Clint resisted the urge to sink into his chair.  What, exactly, was he supposed to talk about with this man?  The sounds of Phil’s even heartbeat faded away and Clint wished the ground would open and swallow him.

            “Director Fury wanted me to meet with you.  I’m Clint Barton.”

            He straightened a little and lowered his coffee cup, “The marksman?”

            Clint nodded.

            “Coulson your handler?”

            Clint nodded again.

            “Hm.  Don’t listen to what the junior Agents say about Coulson, okay?  He’s a good guy.”

            “What do they say about him?”

            He rolled his eyes, “They call him the robot.  He’s a pretty reserved guy especially for a Guide, but he really is the best handler in SHIELD.”

            “I see.”

            “Good.  So, lets talk weapons.  I understand you prefer a bow and arrow.  I’ve got an idea about enhanced arrows, but I haven’t had a decent archer to test them out.”

            “I can do that,” Clint agreed, relaxing somewhat.

            He grinned, “Excellent.  Let me show you my designs.” 

            The meeting ended sooner than he’d expected and Clint decided to go for a brief walk before finding Phil for lunch.  He had a pretty good idea of where he was and wasn’t allowed to go, but gaining access to the roof turned out to be surprisingly easy.  There was a guardrail that ran along the edge and Clint perched himself on it comfortably.  The wind ruffled his hair and he smiled a little.  He let his thoughts wander, there was a lot of think about and the revelations about his childhood that had come after learning about Hydra had been truly disturbing, but he wasn’t ready to deal with that just yet.  Instead he just enjoyed the view until he heard a sound behind him.  Straightening, he balanced easily and turned to look over his shoulder and smile at his Guide.  Phil returned the smile, though it was bland and he was clenching his hands against his pants.  Phil’s heart rate skyrocketed as Clint turned on the railing. 

            “Phil?”

            “Perhaps you could come off the railing and get away from the edge?”

“Phil, are you afraid of heights?” He asked in surprise.

            “Its possible that I dislike them,” Phil admitted.

            “I love them,” Clint replied, “I see better from afar.”  Phil edged a little closer and peered over the edge, his expression tightening.  “I’ll get down.”

            “No, you don’t need to,” Phil replied, “Perhaps if you could sit?”

            Clint turned back around and sat down on the railing.  Phil exhaled slowly before joining him on the railing.  He kept his eyes straight ahead instead of looking down and his heart rate gradually slowed.  He intertwined his fingers with Clint’s and kept his other hand on the rail.

            “Okay?”

            “Yeah.  It’s not so bad.  Why do you like this?”

            “Being up high… I can see everything from up here and it’s so clear.”

            “Yeah?”

            “I used to go to high places so I’d be alone.  Only the tightrope walkers could follow me and they didn’t care enough to bother.”

            “Did you want to be alone now?” Phil asked quietly.

            “No.  I like it better with you here,” Clint admitted, “Everything is better with you here.”

            Phil smiled, exhaling a little as the breeze ruffled his jacket and tie.  Clint smiled in returned and enjoyed the feeling of his Guide’s hand in his and the bright sun on his face.  He was suddenly reminded of watching the clouds pass overhead from the back of his truck.  That life was gone, his life had completely changed again only this time he didn’t have to try to convince himself that it was a better life than would he would have otherwise had.  The sky was a perfect shade of blue without a cloud in the sky and Clint grinned. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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